


7:56

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coffee, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker's powers are fun for sex, Rimming, Time Loop Resets Every Time Looping Character Has An Orgasm, Time Travel For Threesome With Partner's Present and Past Version, Tony Stark's A+ decision making, get weird with your time traveling world building, time travel works however I want it to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You didn’t.”“Well no, obviously not, since you're awake now. But you could go back to bed and then we could - ”Peter is shaking his head. “No, I mean. You didn’t literallymess with the fabric of timejust so we could have a threesome with yourself for my birthday oh my god that’s exactly what you did. You’re insane.”





	7:56

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vandoorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/gifts).

“Happy Birthday, kid!” Tony says, and Peter drops the mug he’s holding.

Ceramic shatters across the tile floor, coffee splashing everywhere, staining the hem of Peter’s sweatpants. Peter doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re upstairs,” he says.

Tony thinks about it for a fraction of a second. Yes, technically he is. But before he can offer much in the way of an explanation, Peter is barreling on.

“I can _hear you_ upstairs. Like, right now,” he says as if repeating it will suddenly make the Tony standing in front of him dematerialize.

“Yeah, I’ll come down in a minute,” Tony says. “I’m probably just double checking that I haven’t irreparably violated the time-space continuum, you know, sending the universe spiralling into chaos with your birthday present. You look good, by the way. Really good.”

It’s true; he does look good.

The Peter that Tony knows is brilliant, and beautiful, and only just recently celebrated his 21st at some lavishly overpriced club Tony had insisted on renting out for the occasion. _This is great Mr. Stark, but you know it’s not really my thing,_ that-Peter had said to him. _Yeah, but how’re you gonna know it’s not your thing if you never give it a try?_ Tony had replied.

Peter had been right; it wasn’t really his thing. But he’d laughed and danced with his friends and had spent the night tipping back heinously overpriced shots nonetheless, a streak of UV glow body paint smeared across his jaw. Tony had watched it all from the sidelines, grinning maybe a little too wide when, sometime near the end of the night, Peter had looped his arms around Tony’s neck and murmured a quiet _thank you_ in his ear.

This Peter doesn’t look like he belongs in a nightclub either. He’s a little broader across the shoulders, his hair a tousled mess of curls. He’s got the mostly exhausted and slightly manic energy of a post-grad, which, assuming everything Tony’d told himself about the situation is true, is exactly what Peter is now. 

This Peter is midway through a doctoral thesis at NYU. Something about biochemical engineering, he’s pretty sure - Tony had been momentarily distracted by the implications of knowing that at some point in the near future he’ll be inventing actual no-shit _time travel_.

And use it for this, apparently. 

(Although that part, if he’s being honest, doesn’t surprise him in the least.)

But that’s beside the point: Peter, imminent PhD in biochemical engineering.

Cool.

Tony tries (and fails) to tell himself that alone isn’t just as hot as the way the kid is standing there shirtless in Tony’s kitchen, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips.

“I heard something crash, figured it meant you’d found our wayward birthday boy.” Tony hears his own voice coming from somewhere near the stairwell. “What’re you doing up, Pete?”

“Coffee,” Peter says by way of explanation. He sounds a little faint.

“Kinda ruining the plan here, kid. We had a whole thing we were gonna set up. Wake you up with a nice long breakfast in bed, really take our time to savor things. And then we’d feed you. After that it was gonna be - ”

“You didn’t.”

“Well no, obviously, since you’re awake now. You could go back to bed though and we could - ”

But Peter is shaking his head. “No, I mean. You didn’t literally _mess with the fabric of time_ just so we could have a threesome with yourself for my birthday oh my god that’s exactly what you did. You’re insane.”

“What, too much?” both of them ask.

Peter lets out a huff of breath that might have been a laugh. 

Tony glances down at the device looped around the back of his hand, the one that will allow him to go back to his own time. It’s a pretty damn awesome birthday present, if he does say so himself. He’s proud of himself for thinking of it - or he will be proud of his future self for thinking of it, he supposes.

“C’mon,” the other Tony says. “We’ve got about eight hours before we have to return your present back to Blockbuster or we’re gonna get charged late fees.”

“I’m from 2022, not 2012,” Tony objects. 

“Whatever.”

“Okay, please tell me you didn’t do all this just to spend the day arguing with yourself, ‘cause I can think of way better things for both of you to be doing with your mouths.”

This is why Tony loves the kid; he’s so fucking smart.

Fortunately so is Tony. (Both of him.) And, well, you know what they say about two heads.

Peter, as it turns out, isn’t wearing anything under his sweats, which is extremely convenient the moment they make it to the bedroom. The other Tony doesn’t let Peter get to the bed, pulling him in for a deep kiss instead. Tony steps in close to press himself against Peter’s back, hands trailing up and down Peter’s sides and dragging his lips across the nape of Peter’s neck. Peter shivers between them.

“What d’you want, birthday boy?” the other Tony asks.

Peter’s head tips back to one side, and Tony briefly catches his own gaze over the kid’s shoulder, can see an all-too familiar glint of mischief there reflected back at him. 

“Both of you,” Peter says.

“Yeah, we got that. And? What else?”

Peter looks back and forth between them, then tips his chin up just far enough to plant an off-centered kiss against Tony’s lips. “Everything,” he says.

“Everything?” Other Tony parrots back, one eyebrow arched.

The Peter that Tony knows would stutter; hesitating the barest second at the challenge before forging ahead. But this Peter grins.

“You heard me.”

Tony did indeed. 

They pull Peter down onto the bed between them, stripping out of their clothes with an ease borne of long practice. The other Tony mouths his way down Peter’s chest, swallowing his cock down to the root. Peter gasps, back arching against Tony, and throws one of his legs up over the other Tony’s shoulder.

Tony takes it as the invitation it must be, sliding his hand down between Peter’s legs to tease at his hole.

“Where’s the lube, sweetheart?” he asks, head dipped down by Peter’s ear.

Peter waves a hand vaguely off to the side. Nightstand, duh. See, if Peter hadn’t messed up the plan by waking up early for his caffeine fix, they could’ve had all of this laid out at the ready. Too late for that now, though. Tony reaches over and fumbles open the top drawer of the nightstand, finding the little tube easily enough and squeezing some out onto his fingers before turning back to Peter, who now has his eyes closed and both hands buried in the other Tony’s hair.

Tony presses his fingers inside, relishing the way Peter seems caught between pushing forward into the mouth in front of him or backward onto Tony’s fingers. 

He pistons his fingers in and out of the tight heat of Peter’s body. This Peter may be older, but he has all the same sweet spots that Tony’s already knows so well. It isn’t long before Peter is coming with a choked off moan, hips stuttering in their rhythm, the other Tony’s hands clenching around Peter’s thighs as Peter’s come undoubtedly shoots down his throat.

Tony doesn’t bother to slacken his pace. He clumsily squeezes out another glob of lube with his free hand, fisting his cock with it briefly before pulling his fingers out of Peter’s body and pushing inside.

One of Peter’s hands flies back to clutch at Tony’s hip, urging him on. Tony is only vaguely aware of the other Tony still working Peter’s cock with his mouth, Peter squirming between them.

“Wait, wait,” Peter says, breathlessly. “I need - hold on.”

Other Tony pulls off of Peter’s cock at his urging, and Tony wraps a fist around the base of his dick to pull out. Peter turns around to plant a sloppy kiss on Tony’s lips, then heaves Tony up like he weighs nothing and sets him down at the head of the bed. Tony lets out a short laugh as his back hits the headboard, surprised and delighted. He’s always known Peter could do that sort of thing, but Peter’s never... not in bed, at least.

The kid worked pretty hard to keep a lid on that sort of thing when they were together, terrified of accidentally hurting Tony.

This Peter gives him an impish wink in response that’s both a promise and a brag. _Yeah, eventually I learn how to walk that line, and you’re gonna have a lot of fucking fun when I do_, his expression seems to say.

Tony can’t wait.

For the moment though, he doesn’t actually have to. Peter turns around, straddling Tony’s lap and reaching one hand back to wrap around Tony’s own, guiding his cock back inside. God, he feels perfect; Tony isn’t actually sure how long he’s going to last like this. Peter rocks down onto him, one hand braced now on the bed behind him, the other reaching out to other Tony, gesturing him in close.

It takes a moment for it to dawn on Tony what Peter is doing, pulling the other Tony towards him and slicking up his cock, but the second he feels one of his own fingers (_holy fucking shit_) press inside Peter right alongside his cock, it’s stupidly obvious. 

“Fuck,” Tony mutters under his breath.

Peter stills above him, panting, leaning back to give the other Tony room to maneuver - which he does. Tony can feel the blunt head of his cock pressing up against the base of his own, shafts sliding against each other as the other Tony pushes in. Peter’s head falls back against Tony’s chest, hips twitching as he tries to adjust.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s chest, licking and sucking at Peter’s neck, right up to the spot where he can feel Peter’s pulse thundering against his lips.

Peter shifts in his lap, bending at the waist so he can hook his ankles together behind the other Tony’s back. Preoccupied as Tony is with the feeling tight heat enveloping his dick, Peter’s inner muscles fluttering as he tries to adjust around them both, he’s semi-aware of the other Tony leaning forward to catch Peter’s lips in another deep kiss.

“You good?” other Tony asks.

Tony feels Peter nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. You can move. Oh my god, please move,” he says.

Tony himself is sandwiched between Peter’s body and the mattress; he doesn’t have much in the way of leverage. But the other Tony doesn’t have the same constraints, and starts slowly thrusting in and out of Peter’s body. The thrusts are small at first; testing the waters, but when Peter whines and starts rocking his hips into every push forward, the other Tony takes that as permission to go harder. All Tony can do is hang on for the ride, hands splayed out over Peter’s chest and stomach, feeling every punched-out breath and gasp of air. He pinches and teases Peter’s nipples, briefly wishing he were in a position to reach them with his mouth.

Tony dips his hand down to wrap around Peter’s cock and is rewarded when he feels the kid’s entire body clench up in response. He pumps Peter’s cock in time with the thrusts, and it’s barely a minute before Peter is crying out, thick stripes of come spurting over his own chest and Tony’s fist. 

Peter goes mostly lax between them and Tony takes the opportunity to shift around, getting his legs underneath him again and pushing up to kneel so he can match each of the other Tony’s thrusts with one of his own.

He’s well aware that it’s probably a sign of some deep-seated narcissism to enjoy the sight and feel of another version of himself fucking Peter this much. 

Tony’s done the whole threesome thing before, but he’s never been particularly inclined to share when it came to Peter - not until now. He’s okay sharing, he concludes, as long as the other person is himself. It feels both generous and greedy at the same time, somehow.

Peter’s legs are no longer hooked around behind the other Tony’s back, instead they’re splayed out to either side (god bless the kid’s flexibility) and Peter is slumped forward against the other Tony’s chest, absently trailing kisses along his breastbone.

Tony leans forward and kisses himself, because why the fuck not, both of them grinning into it, Tony tasting the lingering salty bitterness of Peter's come on his lips. It’s weird to feel the scratch of neatly-trimmed hair against his face - both his Peter and this Peter are still achingly baby-faced, but he can’t say the same of his own cheeks. _This is how it feels for Peter_, he thinks to himself.

It’s that thought that does it, out of everything, tipping him over the edge until he’s coming, buried deep inside Peter’s body, the other Tony’s cock still pumping in and out alongside him and - 

Peter stumbles forward on his feet and they both flinch at the sound of something crashing to the floor.

Tony stares down at the jagged pieces of ceramic, the rapidly spreading puddle of coffee on the marble tiles.

“Oh _shit_.”

Peter looks up at him in disbelief. “You’re upstairs.”

“Uh, happy birthday?” Tony offers, distracted, frantically trying to work out what the fuck must have gone wrong.

“_We_ were upstairs,” Peter says.

“Yeah, we were.”

Okay, so. Couple things. One, Tony isn’t the only one looping, which is both good and bad. At least he doesn’t have to start back at zero and explain what’s going on to Peter - and himself, for that matter. Except, he can’t actually explain what’s going on, not to himself or anyone else.

Two, this is definitely not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to have eight hours here and then snap right back to the moment he’d left in 2022.

“What’d you do?” Peter asks.

“Hey, this was not my idea, for the record - ”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but it will be.”

Okay, hard to argue that. Still. He wasn’t the one that’d actually come up with this neat little trick - or he hadn’t, yet. The one who actually did is coming down the stairs at this very moment.

“I heard something break,” Tony hears his own voice say.

“Yeah, it was probably the time-space continuum,” Peter replies glibly. “Oh my god, we broke the time-space continuum. We broke the time-space continuum _for sex_.”

“Hey, c’mon, we’ll fix it! We’re gonna fix it, promise,” other Tony says.

Tony holds up the hand with the little time-travel device on it. “Yeah, so I’m gonna need you to explain this thing in more detail, because it’s not exactly working as advertised, here.”

Other Tony takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he launches into an explanation. There’s a definite tension running through him which, aside from the most obvious problem, Tony recognizes as frustration. Tony belatedly realizes that unlike himself and Peter, the other Tony hadn’t had a chance to come. He winces in sympathy. It’s okay though; they can fix that just as soon as they figure out the whole accidentally-broke-time thing.

The device on Tony’s hand functions like a very narrowly defined time-GPS. It works on a tricky bit of g-factor matching and particle decomp calculations, and it’s (supposed to be) a one way, one stop, type of deal. He should’ve snapped back to the very moment he left. It shouldn’t be possible to go anywhere (or any_when_) else.

Except obviously it was.

“We may have introduced an unexpected factor into the mix,” Tony says, after a long pause.

“Like what?”

Tony looks down at the device, which looks perfectly clean now… but it shouldn’t be. 

“Oh, you know. Semen.”

Other Tony’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You got _come _on it?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Tony says, waving a hand at Peter, who immediately opens his mouth to respond, but Tony cuts him off before he can. “Why the hell would you design a time travel device that can be affected by bodily fluids? That’s like designing a bomb that can be set off by anyone’s garage door opener, I knew better than that by the time I was six.” He leaves the ‘_and so should you’_ unsaid.

“I’m sorry, which one of us invented time travel again?” other Tony fires back.

“You can be damn sure that _when I do_, I won’t accidentally forget to - ”

“Wow, this is not in any way helpful,” Peter interjects.

Both of them shut up. 

“The device didn’t activate right after I came on it though,” Peter says, slowly, talking it through. “Was it just a delayed response, or did something else trigger the actual loop?”

Realization dawns on both Tonys at the same time.

“I felt you - ”

“Yeah, I came.”

“But we don’t know for sure that’s what caused it,” other Tony continues.

Peter looks between them both like they’re idiots. “Oka-ay, but that’s a pretty easy theory to test, right?”

Without waiting for a response, Peter steps carefully past the broken pieces of mug littering the floor and sinks to his knees in front of Tony, unzipping Tony’s pants and pulling his cock out of his boxers.

Peter presses a kiss to the tip of Tony’s cock, his tongue teasing at the slit. Peter looks up at Tony through his eyelashes without making a move to take things further - as if he’s waiting for permission, as if Tony is going to object. Not fucking likely. Tony lets one hand sink into Peter’s hair, sliding down to cup the back of his head and pull him forwards onto his cock.

Peter groans as Tony pushes inside, the subtle vibration of it making Tony’s thighs clench and his toes curl.

“Oh, _fuck,_” Tony mutters under his breath.

Peter is good at this. No - Peter is _great_ at this. Tony is already lucky enough to know first-hand just how much Peter loves sucking cock, but the extra four years of practice have only made him that much more accomplished at it.

Tony presses his other hand to the side of Peter’s face, feeling the way the kid’s jaw is stretched wide around him, the way he can feel his own dick sliding in and out of the kid’s mouth through the skin of his cheek.

He doesn’t bother to hold back, fucking Peter’s face with abandon.

They have a theory to test, after all.

He comes down Peter’s throat and immediately stumbles forward on his feet, only catching himself the second before the mug crashes to the floor.

Peter sighs and crosses his arms, resigned to the broken mug and the spilled coffee by now.

Other Tony comes down the stairs a moment later.

“This is actually a good thing. All you have to do is not come for the next,” other Tony glances down at his watch, “seven hours and fifty-six minutes.”

“What happens if you just take the thing off?” Peter says.

“It’s a valid question, but whatever is going on isn’t localized to just him - we’re all caught in the loop. My guess it’d keep going whether he’s wearing the device or not.”

They give it a go, because why the hell not at this point. Tony sets the time-GPS thingy down on the counter and jacks himself off. He comes, Peter drops another mug of coffee, they all curse.

“Seven hours and fifty-six minutes, you said?” Tony asks, staring down at his hand which only moments ago had been sticky with come and was now perfectly clean again.

“Yep.”

In the grander scheme of things, it’s a pretty damn easy fix.

Peter looks mildly disappointed at the solution, but perks up soon enough. “Breakfast?”

They clear up the mess on the floor and start pulling ingredients out of the fridge. A pot of fresh coffee is made, eggs are scrambled, bacon is fried. Tony washes and cuts up fresh strawberries while Peter mans the waffle machine.

By the time they’re done eating, an hour has already gone by. This is going to be so easy. Tony isn’t thrilled at missing the opportunity to fuck the kid senseless on his birthday, but given the situation it’s really for the best.

“Alright, your choice kid. What do you want to do today?”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t really want to do anything crazy. Er - crazi_er_. Can we just watch a movie and hang out?”

Tony rolls his eyes, notices the other Tony doing the same. The kid is so damn easy to please. Tony has to wonder sometimes if Peter has any idea just how far he would go to make Peter happy, if the kid would only ask. Then he reconsiders their current situation and thinks, yeah, probably Peter does have some idea after all.

They clean up while Peter idly searches for a movie to watch, calling out suggestions every so often.

“Okay, how about Back to the Future?” Peter offers.

“_No_,” both of them yell back.

Tony would feel bad about rejecting the kid’s suggestion - it’s his birthday, after all - but he’s pretty sure the kid is only doing it to be cheeky.

“Hot Tub Time Machine?”

Yep, definitely being a brat.

“Very funny, Pete,” other Tony yells back.

“Oh - wait! Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure! I’m serious this time. C’mon, _please_?”

Tony sighs, glancing over at his other self. As if either of them can really say no.

They spend the rest of the morning on the couch, Peter sprawled out between them with his legs in Tony’s lap and his back resting against the other Tony.

Tony has one hand wrapped loosely around Peter’s ankle, his other hand idly massaging Peter’s thigh. Not trying to go anywhere with it, just appreciating the feel of the powerful muscle under his palm. The other Tony strokes Peter’s stomach and toys with his hair.

At some point the meandering touches must tip over from casual to teasing though, if the way Peter starts shifting around is any kind of clue - not to mention the fairly obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

“_Tony_,” Peter whines, and Tony isn’t actually sure which one of him is being reprimanded this time.

The other Tony slips his fingertips just beneath the waistband of Peter’s sweatpants, tracing back and forth across the delicate skin just above Peter’s groin.

Peter lays his hand on top of the other Tony’s to still it. “We can’t,” he says.

“Actually you can,” Tony says, much as he doesn’t want to. He squeezes Peter’s thigh. “I can’t, but you can. It’s your birthday, kid. Don’t let me stop you.”

The other Tony flashes him a grin. “I like the way I think. Come on, birthday boy, let’s go unwrap your present.”

Peter rolls his eyes but pushes up off the couch.

“Is the present your dick? Because you got me the same thing last year. And the year before.”

“Exactly! It’s tradition.”

This is fine, Tony thinks. He’s stuck here by himself, watching movies while his future self bones Peter upstairs. Tony has lived through plenty worse. He can deal.

That is, until Peter starts to make noise.

Peter’s never exactly been quiet; and today is no exception. Tony can make an educated guess, based on the fact that it’s Peter’s birthday and everything he can hear oh-so-clearly despite the sound of the TV, that his future self is currently fucking a very enthusiastic Peter into the mattress.

Tony turns up the TV.

Peter gets louder.

His voice cracks as he begs for more, begs for Tony. Eventually the pleas lose all semblance to actual words and just become a near constant, desperate wail, punctuated only by the rhythmic knocking of the headboard against the wall.

Tony doesn’t think about it when he lets his hand drift down between his legs, cupping his groin and squeezing. It’s not enough. He can remember exactly how Peter’s hole feels squeezed tight around his shaft; how it must feel right at this very moment, hot and slick with lube. It’s not until he’s got his hand wrapped around his dick, pumping away after a particularly plaintive cry from upstairs that he remembers why this is a bad idea.

He remembers about half a second too late.

“Are you fucking serious?” Peter says, slamming his mug of coffee down on the counter beside him.

“God_dammit!_” Tony hears his own voice yell from somewhere upstairs.

“Sorry,” Tony says.

Peter gives him a withering look. “Just for the record, I would’ve been happy with like, a Fudgie the Whale cake and a blowjob.”

“In my defense, I wanted to give you something special,” other Tony says from the stairs.

“This is pretty special, I’ll give you that,” Peter replies.

Tony makes a face. “A Fudgie the Whale cake, really?”

“I like what I like, don’t judge. And that’s not the point, anyway. You seriously couldn’t make it another three hours so we stop looping? Or at least let us _finish?_”

“You two seriously couldn’t have kept it down just a tiny bit?” Tony looks over at himself. “You try listening to Peter getting railed into the mattress sometime, see how long you last.”

Peter purses his lips, blushing slightly.

Huh, so apparently he still does that sometimes. Tony is glad to see it; he’d hate to think he'd have to give that up completely someday.

Peter picks up his coffee back up from the counter and takes a few slow sips, considering. He looks at Tony over the rim of the mug.

“Listen, I don’t want to be mean about this, but I want to get fucked on my birthday. We can either like, knock you out with drugs, or I can come up with a super temporary antiandrogen to - you know, make things easier.”

Tony frowns at both suggestions. Neither one is great, but, “I think I’d rather be knocked out, all things considered.”

“But my way you could still participate,” Peter says, the barest hint of a request buried in it.

Dammit. Peter rarely asks for anything. And it’s the kid’s birthday, too. 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You better be damn sure about the ‘temporary’ part of that, kid.”

“I am! I know what I’m doing, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s not sure what precipitated the return to last-name-basis, but figures it’s probably related to Peter slipping back into academic-mode.

They head upstairs to the lab. 

Peter calls out an easy greeting to FRIDAY and gets to work. He’s not starting from scratch, at least - there’s a ton of research on different kinds, although most of it is geared towards making its effects longer lasting, rather than the opposite.

Chemical engineering has never really been Tony’s thing, but Peter digs into it with abandon, tweaking the structures with ease, running simulations until he’s sure he’s got it absolutely right - or at least as close to right as it can be without running a practical test. Tony himself will be the one and only practical test.

As much as he trusts Peter, he eyes the needle with some small amount of trepidation.

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll just reset again. No harm, no foul,” the other Tony says.

“I wouldn’t be so glib there, buddy. If it works a little too well, it’s your junk we might be permanently deactivating here too.”

“It’s not going to permanently deactivate anyone’s junk, okay?” Peter says, exasperated. “Or did you both forget that I know what I’m doing, and I also have a pretty decent personal interest in making sure _both_ of your dicks and sex drives remain healthy and fully intact?”

He’s got a point. Tony grabs the needle out of Peter’s hand, rolls up his sleeves and injects himself.

All three of them are silent for a few moments.

“How do you feel?”

Tony blinks. “Am I supposed to be feeling something?”

“Well, no, probably not. So that’s a good sign,” Peter says.

“How long to take effect?” the other Tony asks Peter.

“It’s gotta make its way through the bloodstream. Give it a few minutes and we can, uh, run a test.”

They wait.

“Were you serious about the Fudgie the Whale thing? Because I sort of already ordered a cake for tonight, but if you were serious I can cancel,” the other Tony says.

“Don’t cancel,” Peter says, then seems to reconsider. “Wait - is the cake like, coming from another dimension or in any way warping the time-space continuum to get here?”

“No. Why, do you want it to?”

“No! No, I just want a _normal _cake.”

“It’s normal. Ish,” other Tony hedges. Tony figures they can all safely assume the cake is either massive, or massively expensive. Possibly both.

Peter seems to come to the same conclusion. “It’s something stupidly expensive, isn’t it?”

“See, that’s one of those gray area type questions where you and I have very different definitions of what counts as ‘stupidly expensive.’”

This is shaping up to be the kind of conversation Tony tries to avoid at all costs. He peeks up at the clock and decides, fuck it, time to see if his dick is still functional or not.

He palms himself through his pants and gets… nothing.

No reaction at all, even after a several minutes of trying.

“Holy shit.”

“It worked?” Peter asks.

“I’d fucking say so.”

“Awesome.”Peter pulls them both out of the lab and into the bedroom.

Tony is less than thrilled at being relegated to support staff in this particular arrangement, but it’s not like he’s going to turn down an opportunity to make Peter feel good, regardless of the situation. Besides, it’s the kid’s birthday. (_Still_. Still his birthday.)

Tony pulls Peter down on top of him, licking into his mouth and burying his hands in his hair. The bed shifts as the other Tony climbs up behind Peter.

Whatever the other Tony is doing behind him makes Peter let out a groan, long and low, and Tony swallows it down greedily. Just because he’s not physically turned on doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying himself.

He only notices belatedly that the other Tony is settled too far back on the bed to be lining up to fuck Peter - or least, not just yet. Peter gasps against his mouth and Tony takes the opportunity to glance down along the line of his back. 

All he can see from this vantage point is the tips of other Tony’s fingers digging into the meat of the kid’s hips, and a tuft of very familiar (and slightly graying, natch) hair just beyond that. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“You like that, Pete?” he asks.

“Mm, yeah,” Peter says, a little breathlessly. “More.”

“More what?”

Instead of answering out loud, Peter rolls his hips back against the other Tony’s mouth. Tony thuds his head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling for a brief moment. He presses a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Hey, got an idea. Lift up.”

He nudges Peter up onto his knees, gesturing the other Tony up as well. “Help me lift him up.”

Kneeling on the bed together, they maneuver Peter up so his thighs are bracketing Tony’s head, his cock bobbing barely an inch from Tony’s face. Under normal circumstances, this would be a terrible idea. Peter, however, is blessedly abnormal.

“Can you reach?” Tony says.

Peter blinks down at him for a moment before tipping his head back, then reaching up to plant both hands flat against the ceiling. Tony feels a good portion of the weight on his shoulders lift off as Peter sticks himself to the ceiling.

The other Tony looks up and grins. “Nice.”

“Think you can hold yourself up there for a little while, kid?”

“Uh huh, totally,” Peter says.

Tony swallows Peter’s cock down to the root and is rewarded almost instantly with a shout of pleasure. He braces his hands under Peter’s ass, trusting in the other’s Tony’s hands braced around the kid’s waist and Peter’s own grip on the ceiling to keep the kid steady above him. 

Based on the ever-increasing volume and desperation of Peter’s cries, both Tonys must be doing pretty good work. Not like that's a surprise; Tony's always been good with his mouth. 

Peter shifts, bringing one hand down from the ceiling and digging his fingers into Tony’s hair. The kid doesn’t have much leverage, hanging between them as he is, but he still tries to twitch his hips forward to thrust farther into Tony’s throat, then rolls his hips back against the other Tony's mouth and tongue.

Tony pulls back as far as his neck will allow him to, bobbing over just the head of Peter’s cock, licking away the drops of precum forming at the very tip, relishing the bitterness of each one.

Peter’s thighs on either side of his head are blocking out most of the sound in the room, but even so Tony catches brief snippets of the kid's voice filtering down from above.

“Please, oh my god please, Tony - I can’t - ”

Peter shifts again, and based on the insistent press of a heel into the center of his back that follows, Tony can only guess the kid was crossing his ankles behind Tony’s back.

Tony gives in and swallows Peter all the way down. Peter shudders above him and comes.

Peter loses his grip on the ceiling and his full weight settles back on Tony’s shoulders and hands. The other Tony grabs at Peter’s thighs to take some of the weight, pulling him back so his legs fall off of Tony’s shoulders and together they let him slide down between their bodies.

The other Tony pushes inside Peter with a long, steady thrust, sending Peter slumped forward against Tony’s chest once more. Tony doesn't pay much attention after that, too caught up in peppering kisses across Peter’s jaw and up the side of his face, murmuring encouragement into his ear as he jolts forward with each thrust.

The kid comes twice more before the other Tony is finished, and all three of them collapse back to the bed, breathing hard.

Eventually, the room quiets.

Peter is drowsing against his shoulder, Tony still stroking his hair.

“Good birthday?” the other Tony asks.

Peter snorts. “Yeah, good birthday,” he mumbles back.

They nap for a while piled together in a messy tangle of limbs, too lazy to move. Tony wakes at some point, grabs a washcloth from the en suite and wipes Peter down as best he can without waking the kid too much.

“How much time is left?” the other Tony says, quietly.

“Not too long.”

“So, hypothetically - ”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I didn’t need to. I know what you’re gonna ask, and the answer is no. No more time travel birthday presents, even if they are for Peter. Not unless you absolutely know _for sure_ you’ve worked out all the little kinks.”

“Hear hear,” Peter mumbles, apparently more awake than either of them thought.

The other Tony looks dismayed, but relents. “Ugh, fine.”

FRIDAY projects a clock on the wall, and they watch the minutes count down together.

_Seven fifty-three_.

Tony kisses Peter one last time. Well, not the last time. If this works, he’ll see his own Peter soon enough. If it doesn’t, they’ll have another go-round to figure it out - but god, he hopes not. Fun as this has been, he wants to go home, back to his own Peter.

_Seven fifty-five_.

Peter rolls onto his side, one thigh draped across Tony’s hips. Tony can feel the telltale warmth of arousal spreading through his groin, a very welcome sensation as well as a relief. Peter was right about the temporary thing after all. He very carefully and deliberately lifts Peter’s leg away from him and presses it back down to the mattress beside him.

“Sorry,” Peter says, but there’s the edge of a smile on his face. It looks a whole lot like _I told you so._

Tony grins back at him, and closes his eyes.

_Seven fifty-six_.

When he opens his eyes, Peter is standing in front of him with tousled hair and a mug of coffee.

“Happy... birthday?” Tony says.

Peter makes a face. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Oh thank god.”


End file.
